


Just Take her Home and You'll Feel Better

by bumblebee_rose



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-18 07:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebee_rose/pseuds/bumblebee_rose
Summary: Its as if there’s something wrong with himHe can’t focus on anything except her smile, and her laugh and how her green eyes seem brighter than any star he’s ever seen in the sky. He watches her lace up her skates in the morning, and step onto cool ice, and he couldn’t be happier. Her hands find their way into his sweater pockets when she forgets her gloves and she raids his pantry for snacks when she shows up uninvited at his apartment, but he doesn’t mind.They’re skating for real again and he really doesn’t mind that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> really didnt think i would ever be here, but i am 
> 
> title taken from a shawn mendez song even though i dont even listen to shawn mendez? but this one line makes me think of them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> proper use of apostrophes brought to you by the only one i trust with my user and password, lindsey

It's as if there’s something wrong with him.

He can’t focus on anything except her smile, and her laugh and how her green eyes seem brighter than any star he’s ever seen in the sky. He watches her lace up her skates in the morning, and step onto cool ice, and he couldn’t be happier. Her hands find their way into his sweater pockets when she forgets her gloves and she raids his pantry for snacks when she shows up uninvited at his apartment, but he doesn’t mind. 

They’re skating for real again and he really doesn’t mind that.

She’s got purple circles under her eyes because she was never a good sleeper, and 5AM mornings were never her favourite, but she chooses him everyday as she meets him outside their building with a soft smile. He thinks she’s the funniest person he’s ever met. He likes her wonky bun that sits sideways on the top of her head, and her skates that she wont change, and all her little superstitions.

Yeah, he loves her, and he thinks the funniest thing in the world is that people think one day he’s going to come to some huge realization and suddenly propose on the podium with tears in his eyes. You don’t skate with Tessa Virtue year after year and not love her. Everybody does, and he thinks its just a side-effect of knowing her. but something’s been different since their comeback, and he isn’t sure what, but for the first time in his life he can say there isn’t anything he would change about his life at the moment.

You can’t agree to another 2 years of competitive skating and have second thoughts about what you’re doing. It takes up all his time, fills up all the spaces in his heart, between his fingers, in his thoughts, its constant and unmoving. It's strict and exact and routine and he’s missed it more than he can say.

But its better this time, they’re better. They’ve got this amazing support system behind them, the coaches they’ve always wanted, and each other in every way. He won’t be the first one to admit they’ve made mistakes in the past, but they don’t blame each other for them anymore. It's like the stars have given them a second chance. They burned up, fizzled out, supernova’d, but time and gravity itself has pulled all the pieces of them back together.

He loves it in Montréal where he tries to speak in broken French and ends up with tessa holding back a smile at his side. He loves his apartment in the same building as hers, and the market down the street that sells fresh bread, and the park in the square that always carries a faint sound of laughter. Tessa weaves herself through the high columns of the bank, and waves at her reflection in the glass windows of the museum. Trades coins with street vendors, and dances in the library’s front lobby to the terrible music that plays day and night. She’s becoming in tune with the city, the honking cars on busy streets, and bells in corner stores become her rhythm.

He really likes their living situation at the moment, any time she needs him he's only one floor away, which fortunately or not has made for many out-of-the-blue visits. She knocks twice on the door and lets herself in wearing a yellow sundress and big sunglasses only to drag him out 5 minutes later to sit under trees and feel the breeze on her skin. He walks in unannounced into his second home and finds her amongst VHS’s, and stationary, and those tiny faded books she carries around in her purse. He steals chocolate covered almonds from the dish on the coffee table and draws little doodles on all her useless notepads. Her makeup leaves black smudges on his hand towels and her nail polish traces purple on all his notes but he likes the reminder that she exists beside him.

If he’s being honest, she walks beside him everywhere he goes, doesn’t leave his side unless she needs to. He thinks it has something to with the fact that they’re both so happy to belong to something again, even if its just each other. Suddenly they’re VirtueAndMoir, and he supposes they always have been, but something about the comeback….

If he’s being honest he really doesn’t care what they’re doing as long as they can be VirtueAndMoir. He’s always thought about what exactly it meant, and prior to this year it always felt like some sort of weight pushing down on him. He felt it on his shoulders in Sochi, like some force that kept them always restricted to a certain amount of space. He couldn’t exist unless he was doing exactly this, and behaving exactly the way he was prepped to, smiling until he cheeks hurt, but they’ve found a new way to belong to each other.

They’re not a compound anymore, but there’s a perfect symbiosis between them. Pluto and mercury are so different but they both exist in the same solar system, they both rotate around the sun, and so can they. He supposes that he’s Pluto because his orbit has always been a tiny bit off, but its okay now even if Pluto isn’t technically a planet anymore, it doesn’t need to be. They don’t need to be anything other than what they are.

So that’s what they do. They just be for a while and that’s good enough for him. Their blades glide together on the ice like toy trains on tracks, and the cold of the rink doesn’t reach the deepest parts of him anymore. Her hand fits so perfectly in his and the crook of her neck seems designed for him. Shes wrapped up in about 10 different layers, and her nose is pink, and shes past tired but he can’t help but smile.

Overall, its been a catharsis for them. A release of everything they had to hold inside for so long. So many “I thought I would disappoint you’s” and “I didn’t know what to do’s” and” I miss you’s” fell at their feet. They were so intertwined in every way it was suffocating, but 2 years later he thinks they’ve finally figured it out. These days she sings loudly in his car and jumps of 2nd last steps, living in light, and walking with more confidence than he’s ever seen, and hes happier than he can remember.

She sometimes skates up to him only to tell him a poorly planned out joke that isn’t funny at all but he laughs anyways and pulls her in as tight as he can and just loves every part of her.

He doesn’t think he could exist without her at all anymore, after all, how can the solar system continue on without the sun? Sometimes they make dinner together even though most people think she can’t cook for the life of her. She’s actually a pretty decent cook when she has a recipe in front of her and enough sheer force of will to follow through all 30 steps. He likes her best at 6:00, socked feet on linoleum floors, and just a little bit of wine past her lips. Then again, he likes her all the time so its not really fair of him to say.

His other favourite Tessa is the rare day when they have a break from training and she rides the elevator down precisely one floor just to see him before she heads out for the day. She’ll walk into his apartment in a long shirt and loose shorts, with sleep still in her eyes, and the smell of mint, and plop herself down cross legged onto one of his tall stools. Her tea leaves rings of orange in his faded mugs and she speaks softly while he makes her French toast. She walks out of his door an hour later after kissing him on the cheek and promising to check in with him before she goes to sleep that night. All he does is close the door behind her, smile sheepishly and clean up the dishes in his sink.

So yes, it’s a second chance for them in every way and he’s so grateful for it. He gets another chance to love her and keep her tucked into the smallest parts of his heart. He likes getting a second chance to meet her family, and most of all skate with her. they are an extension of each other, two souls meeting again. He learns new things about her every day, how she prefers brown sugar over white, and the fact that she still misses ballet.

He’s happier than he’s ever been, so what’s wrong with him?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tess” he says as the moon and stars all lean in a bit closer “do you want to go home”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little starter chapter i promise the real story will start soon
> 
> also thank you to my amazing friend and editor lindsey who literally makes this fic x10 better with actual commas and proper grammar. i owe you my life girl

Canton 2008

He's not drunk.

No, the stale and bitterly sweet syrup won't turn him into a complete asshole tonight. Not to mention she’s standing by some guy who’s at least 5 years older than her and watching them makes the space between his eyebrows hurt. He doesn’t want to be here, but Meryl dragged Charlie out, who dragged him out, and he dragged Tess out and now he’s regretting 99% of the night. So, he sulks on the couch and lets the music dull him, and the lights could fill entire theaters behind his eyes, but he’s not leaving her.

He resolves to picking out threads from the battered fabric of the couch and twirling them in his fingers before tossing them onto the musty carpet. He hates the stiff collar of the shirt Meryl told him to wear, and the way that she combed his hair saying that it made him look hot, but most of all he hates being such a bystander.

Apparently she’s having a good time.

She’s leaning against the banister with a cup of whatever Charlie’s been making in the kitchen and her entire face is bright red. The guy, whatever his name is, puts his hand on the railing beside her and tells some kind of joke that makes her laugh so hard she almost falls over. He almost doesn’t get up, almost lets himself sink into some sort of not-relaxation-but-dull-composure, until he sees the guy lean in close enough to whisper something in her ear, and grab her elbow, and she giggles.

Its like the glass that kept him separated from her has shattered, and he gets up in record time pushing people aside in order to get to her. And when he sees her, she smiles and waves him over, loops her arm through his and leans her head against his shoulder. Her can feel her cheek touch the side of his arm and feels the heat radiating off of her. Her skin is flushed and her hair is coming undone. She has the biggest smile plastered on her face, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Tessa?” he says craning his neck to look down at her

“yea” 

“Can I talk to you?” he says as he points at the door, “Outside.”

“Yeah okay.” she replies shaking her head as she gives her empty cup to whatever his name is, and follows him out the door

As soon as he gets outside and cool air fills his lungs again, he holds her arm a little tighter and starts walking down the road back to his car. He's completely sober and he’s tired and he just wants everything to stop being so loud for a minute when she pulls her arm out of his grasp

“Scott? Where are you going?” she asks him

“We are going back, you’re drunk and we have practice early tomorrow.”

“You dragged me out here!” she yells as she points at him “Aren’t we having fun? We’re at a party, who cares.” she chokes out

Something hurts in the pit of his stomach and the tips of his fingers feel numb as he pulls his keys out of his pocket. He can tell she’s tired too. Tired of the words Marina sticks to her skin, and the alarm she presses snooze on every morning at 4:30. Tired of doctor’s visits and telling him “I’m fine Scott”. Her eyes are red around the edges, and he can see the way her shoulders carve into herself like she's trying to make herself look smaller.

“I’m only here because you made me come.” and he can tell she’s holding back tears because her voice is starting to break “Michael's waiting inside for me-” she forces out until she puts her hand over her mouth and starts crying heartbreaking sobs in the middle of the road at 12:30 AM.

He stands there for a solid 5 seconds at a loss for words until he pulls her into him and traces careful constellations into the back of her shirt.

“it hurts” she chokes out after what seems like an eternity or no time at all

“What hurts?” he asks as he pulls back from her and traces his thumbs across her cheekbones “Your legs? Tess, I brought the car, you don’t have to walk”

She just shakes her head against his chest and continues on with the heaving sobs that break his heart into about twenty-two different pieces. She’s gotten so skinny lately to the point where he can feel each of her ribs through her back, and he wonders how he didn’t notice before. He vaguely hears voices coming from inside, and the sounds of what he assumes is a couple fighting on the steps, but its like he has tuned out everything except her. she’s supposed to be the one clear station on an entire radio of static and he keeps trying to turn the dials, but even she isn’t loud enough to change radio signals.

He's holding her so close, as if he could create a small force field around them, a bubble of calm and good, but it feels like a black hole is growing in the middle of his chest. He loves her so much and he hates that she keeps everything so far inside until it spills out all over the pristine façade she’s created. She’s like two sides of a coin, heads or tails.

He knows its his fault that she’s feeling so much under tonight’s waxing gibbous because he’s seen it coming for weeks, days, the past hour alone. Half an hour before, he was sitting on the side of the tub in the bathroom staring at his shoes as if he could with willpower alone, make himself get up and walk through the house again. Glance at strangers, straighten a picture frame on the wall, see her fill up her cup yet again. He’d tried already once to get her to stop flipping that coin.

“Tess you don’t need to do any of this.”

“Scott” she said as her eyes slid over his, then closed for a second longer than a blink should, “Can you relax? You brought me here remember.” annoyance, and something else clear in her voice

“I know.” he says, words falling off his tongue “So maybe I should take you home.”

“I'm not going home.” she deadpans “I'm having a good time, and I like being here” but he can tell she doesn’t mean a word of what she says when her eyes search his.

“Ok whatever Tess.” he says, and he turns around and walks towards the empty couch. He can't force her to do anything, even if the thought of her making herself enjoy whatever this mess is makes his head feel like it’s floating.

Flash forward to now with her chest shaking and the deepest parts of her fracturing and he actually feels dizzy. The asphalt is wet beneath his sneakers, and the streetlight casts a dim yellow-gold glow onto the two of them, and this is some sort of impressionist painting in the making. All he wants to do right now, Hell, all he's wanted to do all night is take her home and so he does exactly that.

“Tess” he says as the moon and stars all lean in a bit closer “Do you want to go home?”

She finally pulls her face away from him and lets out the smallest laugh as she nods and wipes her cheeks a bit with her sleeve, before attaching herself to his arm and half-walking-half-leaning on him all the way to the car.

They don’t talk about it because her thoughts could rival with Aristotle, but he lets out a breath when she’s finally in the passenger seat of his mom’s old car. They use to sit in the back and trace raindrops down the windows, studying the sun rising over the clouds as his mom drove them to Waterloo every morning. Now, they’re both a little more grown up, and he glances over as she curls herself towards the window and chips off her bright red nail polish. Some radio station plays old music and he can barely hear her but she’s softly saying the words along with the chorus and resting her head against the frame of the car.

He parks at the front of her apartment, silently saying screw it to the sign telling him not to, and follows her up the stairs, takes the keys from her shaky hands, and opens the front door for her. She immediately walks to the bathroom and he hears the sound of running water, so he waits in her kitchen by the coat rack and looks around. Her sink is all empty, and so is the pantry that he can see she left open except for a few mugs and a napkin holder. He opens her fridge and finds barely anything, except for a couple of greens and a bag of clementine’s. she’s been felling hollow lately and he can’t say for sure that she hasn’t been feeling so empty for a while. He vows to bring over something—anything for her in the morning and continues his peruse of her apartment to the couch by the window. 

Not long after, the door of the bathroom opens and she walks out in a towel with mascara smudges under her eyes. She sees him and just looks at him for a second until she turns around and walks into her bedroom. After shes changed into loose shorts and a top, he steps in and finds her just staring at her own reflection in the mirror by the dresser. Her hair is drip-dropping on the ground and she makes no effort to stop it or do anything really until he appears behind her.

As soon as she sees him, she turns around and stands on tip toe to wrap her arms around his neck and just breathe at his shoulder. He holds her for a second or twenty until he lets her go and tells her she should probably get to bed with a raspy voice. She keeps a hold on his hand until she gets too far and has to let go, eventually reaching the side of her bed and disappearing under layers of soft cloud and white linen. 

“I'm-sor” she starts, but he shakes his head only once with his hands in his pockets and she stops, instead saying “thank you” to him through just her eyes as she pulls the covers further up, trapping all the heat in with her.

He only walks towards the door frame and lets out a small “anytime” before closing her light and walking out her front door, locking it behind him. As he makes his way to the back to the car he realizes that for the first time that night, his chest doesn’t feel like its in twenty sailor’s knots. His breathing is less forced and he waits for a minute in his car outside her apartment before pulling away, and driving to his own. 

For the first time that night he feels a bit better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her muscles snapped and her ankles cracked as she made cookie cutter laps around the rink a foot farther away from his side then she usually stood. Her hands were shaking and he offered to hold them but she said she was ok, so he traced circles with her and listened to the crisp sounds their skates made on the smooth ice, instead forcing himself not to analyze every action of his for the past twenty-four hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lindsey edited and formatted this and as usual it got 20X better so THANK YOU

Everything about today was cold.

When he picked her up she threw an extra scarf into her gym bag and rubbed her pink nose against the back of her hand. The windows of their building were half covered by snow, and the stale block of the hallway only radiated lifelessness and silence. Everything tasted bitter and frigid on the tip of his tongue.

Their usually warm coffee from Timmies wasn’t as soul reviving as it should have been, and the heating is his car wouldn’t work. Snowflakes stuck to her eyelashes and ran in slush down the windows of his car trapping them in some eternal winter. There were goosebumps on her arms, and her freckles stood out against her pale skin in the harsh rink lighting, not to mention she hadn’t said a word to him all morning.

Her muscles snapped and her ankles cracked as she made cookie cutter laps around the rink a foot farther away from his side then she usually stood. Her hands were shaking and he offered to hold them but she said she was ok, so he traced circles with her and listened to the crisp sounds their skates made on the smooth ice, instead forcing himself not to analyze every action of his for the past twenty-four hours.

He didn’t think she was mad at him, he finally concluded as she left his side to go grab that extra scarf from her bag. He has days like this too, its perfectly normal for her to be below zero sometimes. When Marie France and Patrice call them over to the sides she stays just close enough to look like they are two halves of an 18 year partnership, but farther away than he can reach for her.

They start by running their free once before delving into corrections and over analyzing. Its far from the best they’ve ever done it, quite the opposite actually, he doesn’t think he’s ever had a run though that bad. Everything about them is short and frigid. Biting down into chapped lips and cutting corners with the sides of their blades. He almost knocks her sideways we he wobbles on his twizzles and they both lack the fluidity they normally achieve so easily. It's like someone left rubber bands in the freezer too long, pull enough and one will snap eventually. Marie watches with a furrowed brow from the bench as she pulls her cardigan tighter against herself, and Patch stands to the side picking at a thread in his jacket.

They sink down into their ending pose and it all feels too staged, like he’s hugging an ice sculpture. She only stays there a second before lightly pushing him off of her and standing up, wiping pieces of snow and frost from her leggings. He stays with one knee down on the ice and watches as she pulls down the cuffs of her zip up, avoiding his eyes. He can see the tension in her shoulders, and her lips, and the way she looks anywhere but his face.

“Tess” he says reaching out for her but she just shakes her head and he stops.

So they go on that way for another how many hours. Dancing around each other, never stepping too close to the edge of the pool. Her normally bright green eyes are dim, and her skin is as cold as the porcelain in his cupboards. He can see every breath she takes, and every line she carves into the ice below her. Neither of them can find an edge of a blade, a cliff, a voice of reason, to get them through this cabin fever complex of the rink. So they just skate to the notes that tell stories of pilgrims getting nowhere, and Sam Smith not wanting to let go.

He drops her off at her apartment and walks what seems like the side of a mountain down to his own. He puts his gym bag in the closet by the front door, washes the dishes left in his sink, wears trenches into the hardwood with all his pacing, but he can’t relax. He’s restless, but he doesn’t want to go for a run, or hit the gym, or do any of their therapist assigned breathing exercises. He just wants to feel warmth in her hands again and melt whatever sheet of ice has grown between them, so he says fuck it, and walks up the stairs again until he’s right in front of her door.

It’s the most intimidated he’s ever been, scratch that- this is the second most intimidated he’s ever been. The first was when he knocked on her hospital door after her second surgery, flowers in hand and his mind filled with TV static.

_They had pushed too far, so she was lying in a bed drugged up, with scars and stitches in her legs, while he was free to fuck around and mope at the rink. He was there, better for her the second time around, but the guilt still sat on his lungs every time she winced in pain or had to sit down after walking down a hallway. Her mother opened the door with a soft smile and only a bit of surprise on her face, which he’s lucky for since last time he didn’t even bother checking if she was alive._

_“Scott!” She said smiling as she hugged him “I’m so happy to see you, these are so beautiful, you know she loves peonies. Come in, I’m sure she’ll be so excited to see you when she wakes up.”_

_He doesn’t know how she fit an entire 5-minute conversation into 30 seconds but he assumes it’s mother’s anxiety from her passed out daughter on the bed not 5 feet away from him. He steps inside the room and she ushers him into one the chairs at her bedside, where he alternates between looking out the big window, and watching her breathe. five minutes pass before he builds up enough courage to ask how she’s doing._

_“Have the doctors said anything?” he asks, eyes not leaving her face._

_“They say she’s doing okay so far.” Kate says crossing her knees. “Of course, you know how important this is.” she turns serious facing him “Scott, I’m sorry to say but if this doesn’t work out, I can’t- won’t put her through this again. It’s too much. I know you understand, and I know you won’t blame her, but she’s going to blame herself until the day she dies if this doesn’t work out in your favour.” He nods and she grabs both of his hands in hers “There is so much love, and grace, and respect between the both of you, and my one bit of resting hope is that fate wouldn’t do this to two people meant for so much, so we’re not going to worry, instead we’re going to just take it as it is, one day at a time, and that’s all we can do.” She finishes, turning again towards her daughter and stroking her cheek with the back of her hand. “I know you’ll be okay Scott, the both of you are going to have so much joy in your future.”_

_She wakes up half an hour later, or twenty-two minutes after he started rubbing circles into the back of her hand._

_“Hey Tess.” he says smiling as she turns her head towards him_

_“Hey,” she says softly_

But he’s not there, he’s standing in front of her apartment door shifting his weight from foot to foot and coming up with reasons why he shouldn’t run away immediately.

1\. If he leaves now he’s sure he’ll be back in no more than 5 minutes.

2\. They can’t keep skating like they did today.

3\. Either they’re going to make up or he’s going to buy a six pack and that’s definitely not a B2ten approved meal.

So, he knocks twice on her door and waits a bit before he calls out for her.

“Tess” he says leaning his forehead against the cool surface of the door “Will you please open up?”

She opens the door seconds later and he stumbles a bit before straightening out.

“We need to talk.” he says and she merely gestures at the inside of her apartment as she follows him in.

“Tess what’s wrong, all day we’ve barely spoken to each other.”

“It’s nothing.” she says weakly,

“You realize this is us, right? We’re in this together, you and me.”

“I know, I know”

“Then please just tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Tess I really don’t want to do this right now.”

“Scott, what are we doing?” she blurts out

“What are we doing?” He questions “We’re training, getting stronger, and getting ready for the Olympics. And we’re going to win.” he says taking her face in his hands

She steps backwards and looks at the grain in the floor before rambling on like Scott’s never heard her do before.  
“No, I mean what are we doing for the next two years, the whole comeback thing, Scott I don't know if we can do this.”

“What?”

“I’m saying I don’t know what I’m doing.” She emphasizes, “We’re going to What? Work our asses off for two years at the off chance that we may win a medal when we know full well the ISU is screwed and that they’ve never been more against us? What if we get silver, can you even imagine what that would feel like again? What if it’s all for nothing, because I can’t do Sochi again Scott, I can’t feel like that again, and I can’t do that to us again.”

“Tess.” he says taking a step towards her,

“No.” she says taking another step back. It’s a dance, they’re lost in tango once again, but this time he doesn’t know the steps.

“What happens after?” she goes on “We do Stars On Ice and a few tours after that, then never speak to each other? We both get married with 2.5 kids and disappear into different cities and send each other Christmas cards. I can’t do all of this with you and then try to rebuild myself into one person again, I don’t want to.”

“Kiddo”

“Will you let me finish.” She challenges, and he’s never closed his mouth faster. “I need something, I need some stability or guarantee that I’m making the right choice here, that it won’t all be for nothing, so please tell me that I’m wrong, because I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m right.”

“Okay” he says as he pulls her to the dinner table "Okay we’re going to sit down right now and we’re going to figure this out.”

He pulls out a notepad and divides it into three columns, worst, what will probably happen, and best.

“So, this is how we’re going to go about dealing with this because I know you’re all about the lists and I think it’ll give us fair expectations for ourselves, so that we don’t overwork or over stress or try to push ourselves harder than we should.” He says as he sits beside her at the table.

“Worst possible outcome of all of this, which is basically everything you just said plus like the Leafs lose again.”  
He jots down,

W _e mess up our skates (fall, forget choreo, lose headspace)._

_Finish at a-less-ideal spot._

_Feel like we could have done more._

_Grow apart._

just the word _“Sochi”_

_And the Leafs lose every game._

 

“Scott, I really don’t feel like this is helping.” she says

“No no you have to finish, I promise it will work. Now, what will probably happen?”

She watches as he writes out,

_We prepare as well as we can._

_We leave everything on the ice._

_We finish at a spot we are happy with._

_We stay connected._

_Overall, we feel satisfied and happy with what we have done._

_The leaf’s make it far enough but inevitably lose._

 

“Okay” she says

“Now last column, best possible situation”

He writes,

_Gold medals rain down from the sky._

_Didier drops dead._ (Which earns him a light smack on the arm from her.)

_They never pay for a drink again._

_A statue is built in their honour._

_We gain a mind connection that allows us to telepathically communicate continents apart._

_The leaf’s win the cup._

 

“I think I could live with the middle column, though I really wouldn’t mind a statue” she jokes,

“Right! Now how are we going to get to that point?” He asks as he writes down the number one in blue ink below the chart.

She pauses a second before she looks at him again “No distractions.” she says. “We don’t focus on what anyone else is doing, we don’t spend unnecessary time on things that don’t help, and we don’t let anything come between us and the end goal.”

“Sounds good.” he says “I think number two should be 'it’s about us'. This isn’t to prove something to the world, or to our competitors, or even to the ISU. If we’re going the full two years it’s because we want to, and because we’re fully dedicated to each other and our skating-We’re skating for only us this time.”

“I like that.” she says putting her elbows on the table and leaning towards him “During Sochi it felt like this huge pressure was on us to beat Meryl and Charlie and prove that we were the best, I think it caused a lot of issues at the time with my overall confidence in us and wondering why we were skating in the first place.”

He nods and writes down the words 'Prepare, prepare, prepare'

“I think that if we do everything we possibly can to get to where we want, there’s no way we can lose. We work hard in practice, listen to our mental coaches, and surround ourselves with the best people. I just can’t see how if we really prepare in every way, that we finish anywhere except where we want to be”

“For number four I think 'Stay in the present.' is important.” She says” We don’t spend every day thinking about February. We do the most we can for where we are, and we use every day to the fullest degree we can.”

“Yea.” he agrees “Your mom actually told me once that in the end it is what it is, all we can do it take each day at a time, and it’s stuck with me I guess.”

She smiles and puts his hand over top of his “For number five I think we should just write 'Love', we treat each other with love and patience and we try to be the best people we can be. We act kind to competitors, and especially ourselves. We don’t push ourselves too far, and we do what’s best for us as people. I really think a big part of what was missing in Sochi was love, and not only for the sport.”

“That’s a really good one T.” he says, a slight smile on his face as he goes to hang it on her fridge, admiring his work for a second before he turns back towards her.

“I just- thank you Scott.” she says from her spot at the dining table,

“You know I’d do anything for you T.” he says as he walks back

She stands up and meets him halfway standing on her top toes to wrap her arms around his neck and press her face into his shoulder. She breathes into him once, twice, before she lets him go and everything around the edges seems a little blurry all the sudden. They stand there several seconds nobody daring to move until she finally speaks up.

“You’ve really helped me tonight, honestly, but I need time to think about what we just said and get it into my head.”

“Yea of course” he says as he makes his way towards the door,

“I’m serious Scott.” she says as her eyes soften “Really, thank you.”

“Goodnight T.” he smiles as he makes his way out into the hall and she waves him goodbye.

Even though snow is piling up on the windows and he’s not sure he’s going to be able to open the front door in the morning, he feels warmer than he has all day.


End file.
